


Guardian

by JolinarJackson



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolinarJackson/pseuds/JolinarJackson
Summary: Spoilers forSpider-Man - Homecomingahead.May put her arms around him. “Why didn't you tell me?”Peter shook his head. “I didn't want to worry you. It's not as bad as it looks.”Tears threatened again at his words. “It's a stab wound, Peter. In yourchest.”Or: The one where May notices what state Peter is in when he returns from the Homecoming dance and doesn't learn the truth, but still manages to be exactly what he needs.





	Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> _Author's Note:_ How awesome was _Homecoming_? I absolutely adored it! The humor, the music, the action but most of all, the angsty scenes. Especially the one where the building collapses on Peter. I thought that Tom Holland was absolutely fantastic in that scene. Great character moment through and through. So, yes, I had to write something about it.  
>  _Beta:_ Kazoom, who did a super quick and great job. :)

**Spoilers for _Spider-Man - Homecoming_ ahead.**

Please also take note that this story is written entirely from May's point of view and that point of view is, quite frankly, not shedding the best light on Tony. So while this isn't a story trying to make Tony look like the bad guy, please consider that May - with everything she _doesn't_ know - might very well see him as one.

***  
***

 

May looked up from her magazine when the key turned in the lock and then checked her watch. It was just after nine, a bit too early for Peter to come home. She'd told him to be home by eleven at the latest, had even slipped him some money for a burger, should he want to ditch the dance with Liz or take her out for a short meal right after … this couldn't be good. May swung her feet off the couch and braced herself for a possible heartbreak in the making.

The door clicked shut and she heard Peter in the hallway. He was moving unusually slow. Normally, it didn't take him long to leave his shoes by the door and either appear in the corner that housed the kitchen or go directly to his room. It was also not typical for him not to call out a greeting of any kind. May grimaced. Heartbreak seemed more likely by the minute.

Peter finally appeared in the kitchen a moment later and immediately turned away to open the fridge, getting out a bottle of water before starting to rifle through the contents. His suit looked slightly crumpled. He still didn't acknowledge her presence in any way.

She couldn't take it any longer. “Hey you.”

He paused for a moment, as if he hadn't even noticed her in the living room just behind him up until now, and then answered, “Hey.” His voice sounded a bit shaky. May saw his shoulders hunch.

”How was it?” she asked carefully.

There was another pause, this one longer, and then he pulled several boxes with left-overs out, methodically setting them on the counter. “Good.”

May raised her eyebrows. “Just good?”

He piled the left-overs into a bowl, apparently not really caring about whether the contents would even mix well, before setting it into the microwave. May could see part of his face now. In the low lights of the living room spilling over into the kitchen niche, he seemed unusually pale, his expression pinched.

_Something was **wrong**._

May got up from the couch. “Peter,” she said, crossing into the kitchen and leaving her magazine on the table of the breakfast nook as she approached him, “did something happen?”

”Nothing happened.” He stared into the microwave. “I'm just hungry.”

She set one hand between his shoulder blades and slid it up to comb through the hair at the back of his head. “Look at me?”

He hesitated before turning to face her.

May pressed her lips together at the sight of a bruise forming against Peter's cheek and she tilted his head up to look at the split lip he was sporting. His tie was missing entirely, the shirt just as crumpled as the suit jacket and trousers. She took his hands and turned them, finding scrapes on the palms, some of them scabbed with dried blood.

Peter didn't meet her eyes.

“Who was that?” she asked quietly.

He shrugged. ”Just some guy.”

”Some guy,” she repeated. “Does he have parents I can call?”

Peter shook his head and turned back to the microwave. “It's no big deal, May.”

”Peter,” May said.

He turned his head towards her, but was still not looking into her eyes, his gaze going past her towards the living room.

Slightly annoyed, May snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Peter, I'm serious. I thought we talked about this. I don't want to put up with this crap anymore.”

She waited for a reaction, _any_ reaction, but Peter just closed his eyes. ”I'm really tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”

May shook her head. She touched his right shoulder to make him at least _look_ at her, but she was caught by surprise when he flinched and gasped in pain, slapping her hand away and backing into the counter behind him. In the low lights, he looked pale and unwell, his hand cradling his shoulder carefully as he drew in a deep breath. “Ouch.”

The word sounded like an understatement.

May watched, horrified, as he visibly pulled himself together to give her an unconcerned smile through the pained tears in his eyes. “Must have pulled it in PE.”

The microwave beeped.

Peter moved towards it but May stepped into his path. “Peter,” she said slowly, “show me your shoulder.”

He shook his head, wincing a moment later as if the movement hurt, but then he finally, _finally_ met her eyes. ”May, please … it's no big deal.”

She was tired of his evasions, of his half-truths and white lies. ”Open your shirt, right now!”

Her sharp tone seemed to startle him and he took a step back. “Please … May, it's okay.”

”Let _me_ be the judge of that.”

He looked at her for a long moment, not moving.

“ _Peter_.”

She didn't know whether it was the undercurrent of frustration in her voice or whether it was her angry expression, maybe it was the desperation and fear she felt must be visible in her eyes ... but Peter gave in. Slowly, he shrugged out of the suit jacket. His fingers stumbled when he went to unbutton the shirt, fumbling awkwardly. His eyes met hers, pleading. “Don't be angry.”

”Show me, then we'll talk.”

His head ducked away and he opened the shirt.

May felt her heart skip several beats, her stomach sinking and her breath stuttering. Tears threatened unbidden as she reached out a hand ... she didn't touch him, however, afraid to cause him any additional pain.

There were bruises all over his chest, dark and angry over the ribcage on his right side and fading into a lighter color towards the left. On his right shoulder, just above the bend of Peter's collarbone, a wound had been taped over sloppily with gauze, the medical tape smeared with dried blood in some places and the gauze showing a dark shadow as if blood had congealed underneath. May touched him after all, peeling away the tape carefully and folding the gauze back. She gasped at the sight of something that looked a lot like a stab wound. It had started to bleed again sluggishly when she'd removed the gauze and she hurried to put it back, pressing one hand down on top of it.

She felt dizzy.

Peter's voice was very quiet when he admitted, “I was mugged.”

Everything turned hazy, the noises fading away as a rushing sound in her ears increased in volume, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She heard Peter's voice but it was so muffled that she didn't understand him. Strong hands took her arm and wrapped around her waist and she was guided to sit.

He could have died, she realized. That stab wound ... just a bit further down, sliding between his ribs, piercing his lungs ... she couldn't breathe.

“May?” His voice sounded far away, his hands on her shoulders were firm. It reminded her of Ben, it reminded her of _that_ night.

She'd been crying, he'd been close to tears and he'd held her like this. _“We need to stay calm, May. For him. We're all he has left now.”_

She couldn't breathe.

“May? May!” His hands framed her face. “May. May, please ...” He sounded frantic.

She didn't want to scare him, reaching out a hand to show that she was still there. She just needed a moment. 

_Just one moment._

She drew a deep breath, letting it out. Peter's fingers curled around hers, warm and reassuring. She breathed, starting to feel a little better. Blinking to clear her vision, she found herself on the bench in the breakfast nook. Peter was kneeling in front of her, a terrified expression edged into his face, his dark eyes wet. She cupped his face and leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead. Meeting her halfway, Peter pulled her into a hug, his head tucked under her chin.

May put her arms around him but she didn't squeeze, fearing that any pressure might hurt him. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He shook his head and she felt him tighten his hold on her. “I didn't want to worry you. It's not as bad as it looks.”

Tears threatened again at his words. “It's a stab wound, Peter. In your _chest_.” She sobbed. “If you'd ...” She couldn't continue.

“I'm fine,” Peter said quickly, drawing back to look at her with a small smile. It failed to distract from the bruises and the blood. It just made him look exhausted and sad. She pulled him to sit on the bench next to her and Peter huddled against her side like he did when he'd been little, his head on her shoulder and his arms around her waist. May pressed a kiss to the top of his head, frowning at the faint smell of smoke she caught in the dark strands of his hair.

“Did a doctor look at it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Peter shook his head. “I kinda ... patched myself up. I know ... money's tight this month.”

She closed her eyes. Not just this month. She never talked with him about their finances, but she knew that he at least _suspected_ they weren't good. Ben's funeral, the weight of the monthly bills and installments ... she needed a solution and fast. There was no doubt that Peter should go on to attend college, but with everything that had happened, May wasn't sure whether she'd be able to pay for that. That circumstance was the only reason she'd allowed Peter to start the Stark internship in the first place, despite her dislike of Tony Stark himself: Peter would have had the chance to qualify for a Stark Industries college grant. Considering how stressed out Peter had been during the whole internship, though, she was actually glad that it had ended prematurely.

She'd find a way, she always did.

May kissed his temple, combing her fingers through his hair. “You probably need stitches. We're going to the ER.”

He stiffened. “It's _fine_ -”

“No,” she interrupted him harshly. “I can't lose you. Okay?”

He must have heard the tears in her voice, because he nodded shakily, his eyes squeezed shut. ”I'm sorry,” he whispered. ”I'm so sorry, May.”

“It's not your fault.” She let out a sigh, calming a bit, forming a plan. “We should also go to the police.”

“No.” He sounded even more adamant about that than about the hospital.

She frowned at him. “Peter-”

“No, May. Seriously, I ...” He sat up, pulling back to be able to look at her. “I didn't even _see_ him. It was dark and ... I wouldn't be able to describe him at all and ... I didn't have much on me, he didn't even get my phone because he didn't bother looking properly.”

“That doesn't make it okay-”

“May, please. _Please_.” He took her hand, his dark eyes wide and pleading. It was hard to turn him down when he looked at her like that and he probably knew it. He used this tactic since he was seven. Usually, however, only when something was really important to him. “Let's go to the ER. _Just_ the ER.”

She brushed his hair out his forehead, undecided.

“I ... May, please. No police. You know they never catch 'em anyway. I'm so tired, let's just ...” He trailed off.

May cupped his cheek. He _did_ look exhausted, pale ... and sad. She sighed, deciding to let it be for tonight and get back to it tomorrow once he'd had a bit of sleep. “It's a shame Spider-Man wasn't around when it happened,” she said.

His expression fell, his eyes flitting to the side. The smile he gave then was halfhearted. “Yeah, right?”

“Okay,” she said, “just the ER. Let's go.”

***

Seeing the full extent of Peter's injuries in the harsh lights of the ER made her tear up again. She spent the entire examination trying _not_ to imagine just what had caused the livid bruises and the bloody scrapes, why his rib was fractured or how he'd got the stab wound and the mild concussion.

It was a wonder he'd been able to walk home.

The thought gave her pause when she suddenly remembered that Peter hadn't been _supposed_ to walk home. It had been agreed that Liz's dad or her mom would drop him off.

When they were back in the car, leaving the hospital's garage, May voiced her question. ”How come you _walked_ back anyway? You shouldn't have been out there in the first place.”

”I left early,” he answered. ”I ...” He paused and she saw him duck his head out of the corner of her eyes. ”... kinda just ... ten minutes in, I couldn't ...”

May gave him a moment after he'd trailed off, waiting to see whether he would continue but he didn't. ”Peter-”

”I _know_. I was … it was _stupid_. I just ... just couldn't ...” He took a breath, shaking his head. ”I should never have asked her.”

May turned to look at him as she stopped at a red light. The streetlamps threw shadows across his face, catching in the tears running down his cheeks. May's heart broke a little. ”Honey,” she said, reaching out to wipe his tears away, ”it's okay.”

”It's not okay,” he answered hoarsely, his eyes closing in defeat. ”It's _not_ okay.”

May entangled her hand with his, squeezing tightly.

She'd suspected something like this already and she knew that it wouldn't do any good to berate him for leaving or to tell him that he should have stayed just a bit longer to see whether he wouldn't enjoy himself after all. She knew that the need to get out, to leave, was something beyond his control and she also knew that he hated himself enough for it without her adding to it.

The social anxiety he'd been struggling with as a child after his parents had died was much better these days, but he still tended to get extremely shy when feeling awkward or falling back into his stutter when becoming nervous. The clubs he'd joined at school had played a part in battling his fears and especially being part of the decathlon team had turned out to be a blessing, feeding into Peter's self-confidence with every correct answer he gave. Also, Ned had been a big help. When he and Peter had met just shy of nine years old, Ned had been kind of an outsider as well. However, other than Peter, he had the self-confidence to push his limits and he tended to pull Peter right along.

May knew that Peter had ditched all extracurricular activities except for the decathlon team recently. He'd cited the internship as the reason but she'd always suspected something more was behind it. Now, she started to fear that the old issues were back and wondered whether they were dealing with a late backlash to Ben's passing.

The lights changed and she let go of his hand to grip the wheel. They remained silent throughout the rest of the ride until May pulled into their street and parked. She looked at Peter, reaching to brush one hand through his hair.

Peter's eyes seemed black in the dim lights as he turned towards her and his expression was pained. ”This was supposed to be different,” he said. “It was supposed to feel _better_.”

“I know, sweetie. The evening didn't go as you'd planned but ... you're gonna see, things are going to work themselves out. Talk to Liz tomorrow, try to explain it to her. And if she can't understand, then that's too bad. If she can't understand, she's not the right girl for you.”

He looked at her miserably, shaking his head.

“You had a bad week,” May added. “Losing the internship and all ... maybe that's why you freaked out tonight?”

He shrugged.

“You never told me what happened with Stark.”

He heaved a deep sigh. “I made a mistake ... miscalculated. He got ... angry, told me that he expected better.”

May's dislike for Stark intensified, her protective instinct flaring. It was all made worse by the fact that Peter actually _idolized_ Tony Stark since his early childhood. Actually would _listen_ to him if he spewed nonsense like that. “Well, don't let anything that Tony Stark tells you get you down. People like him ... people like him, they're way up there and they make themselves feel good by giving you a hand. But as long as you're not their equal, you're better off staying on the ground. I'm not saying you should ignore things they offer or refuse to work with them. I'm not even saying that he didn't mean well. Just … you shouldn't rely on his opinion so much.” She cupped his cheek. “You're smart and you're funny and you have a good heart. You're going to be a great man. Better than Tony Stark, easily. So don't let him get into your head and tell you that you're not good enough. I know better, okay? And I'm actually the one whose opinion counts for something. I _raised_ you. What did _he_ do?”

Peter huffed a laugh but it sounded sad. “I couldn't possibly tell you.”

She smiled. “See?”

“Love you, May,” he said, leaning over the gap between their seats to hug her.

She kissed his forehead. “I love you, too,” she answered. “So much.”

***

May startled awake when someone kicked her leg and found herself in the living room, with a late-night rerun of Murder She Wrote on the television screen, empty pizza boxes on the coffee table ... and Peter on the opposite end of the couch, moaning in fright and struggling against the blanket she'd covered him with. His legs had got completely tangled in it in his restless sleep and apparently, it started to bother him.

”Peter?” she asked, leaning over to cup his sweaty face. ”Peter, wake up.”

He whimpered, his hand reaching out. She took it and curled her fingers around it, wincing when he squeezed tight enough to hurt. “... me, please,” he gasped. “ _Please_.”

May raised her voice a bit, shaking him slightly. ”Peter.”

He gasped awake, still struggling against the blanket and only getting tangled up even more, his breathing becoming uneven, his eyes wide and panicked.

”Peter,” May said, quickly pulling him to sit up.

He pressed one hand against his chest, his face _terrified_. ”I can't breathe,” he panted. ”I can't ...” He tried to move his legs, whimpering when he couldn't, trapped in the blanket. He gulped in air, his breathing getting deeper and faster.

May's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the symptoms and she slid closer to him. ”You can breathe,” she said firmly. ”Peter, just breathe.” He was still clutching her hand in a bruising grip, so she used the other one to press against the back of his neck to ground him. “It's okay. Peter, stay with me, come on.” She pushed their joined hands against her sternum so he could feel her chest move as she forced herself to breathe evenly, to keep calm in the face of his panic. She brushed his hair out his forehead, guiding his head to look at her. ”Peter, breathe out, like me, breathe out through your nose. Now.”

He did so, shakily.

”And in through your mouth.” She drew in air, tears entering her eyes when he failed to do so.

Instead, even more air left his lungs as he sobbed and his legs kicked out, still trapped in the folds of the blanket. ”'s too tight, I can't ... I can't ... 'm stuck ...”

May let go of his head to get up and pull at the blanket, freeing his legs as quickly as she could with her other hand still in his death-grip. ”It's okay, baby. It's all okay.” She sat back down and made him look at her again, speaking slowly and firmly, ”You're not stuck, you're just panicking. You're breathing just fine, but _too fast_. Go slower. Breathe out _now_ , through your nose.”

He obeyed hesitantly, his fingers tightening around hers, his free hand clamping around his leg with the effort.

”And in through your mouth.”

He choked but finally, _finally_ managed to get in some air properly, holding it for a few seconds before she told him to release. She made him repeat it a few more times until his eyes cleared and he seemed calmer.

”Are you okay?” May asked, releasing her grip on his hand, wincing and flexing her fingers when he let go in turn. He'd always had a strong grip during panic attacks, but never to the point of hurting her.

He nodded slowly. ”Yeah.” He took another deep breath, folding his hands in his lap. ”'m fine.”

She knew he was lying. She let it slide.

The tv was now showing a news broadcast. Burning fragments of an airplane on the beach at Coney Island, the news anchor reporting that one person had been arrested, that Spider-Man had fled the scene.

Peter's eyes were on the screen.

May leaned back, trying to shake off the tension of the last few minutes. ”I'm starting to think that guy's becoming a bit dangerous.”

”Who?” he asked.

”Spider-Man.” She got up and headed for the kitchen. ”At first, he only stopped muggers and car accidents, then bank robberies and now he's involved in plane crashes? You'd think he's an Avenger.”

Peter ducked his head away, looking at the screen. ”He's not an Avenger.”

May handed him a glass of water. ”Coney Island is far out of his usual territory, though, isn't it?” She gathered up the pizza boxes.

He shrugged. ”I guess.” He checked his phone. May watched him from the kitchen, saw him stare at the lighted display for almost a minute, wondered whether he was thinking about texting Liz. Finally, Peter gave a tired sigh, letting the phone drop onto the coffee table. ”I'm gonna go to bed.”

”Alright, sweetie.”

He made a detour to the kitchen and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, May,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“Trusting me.”

She looked at him, cupping his cheek. “Of course I do. Always. Even when I yell.” She smiled sadly. “I just worry.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “You don't need to, though. Everything's okay.” 

She was struck by how mature he'd become over the last few years, the last few _months_ , really. All grown up and trying to carry responsibilities he didn't want to burden her with. He was becoming so much like Ben in that regard and she couldn't be prouder. ”Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise. I just ... I'm just figuring some stuff out, is all.”

“You do that.” She threw him a teasing smile. “But after curfew, please do it in your room instead of sneaking out?”

He smiled back and for the first time since he'd come home, he looked something akin to happy. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She patted his cheek. ”'Night.” She waited until the door to his room had clicked shut before leaning against the counter, letting out a shaky sigh and burying her face in her hands. She allowed herself the tears for a few minutes, wiping her cheeks as she stared at a picture of Ben on the fridge.

Taking a few calming breaths, she poured herself a glass of wine and returned to the living room. The tv was now showing an 'eye-witness video' from the crash side. It had been taken from a big distance, but the zoom on the phone was good enough to recognize the figure clad in red and blue limping away from the crash site. Spider-Man was walking slowly, a hood pulled deep into his face, his movements rigid as if he was in pain, cradling his right shoulder carefully. Somebody on the video called his name and he turned away, actively avoiding looking towards the people and vanishing in the shadows of the Cyclone. 

The video was replayed and May sat on the couch, just looking at him. He was a scrawny little thing, really, nothing like Thor or Captain America, who looked the part of the superhero. He was thought to be young by people who had encountered him because of the way he spoke and the pitch of his voice. There was a theory that he was a college student of some kind. May watched him melt into the shadows and wondered whether his parents knew.

With a sigh, she switched off the tv and finished the glass, leaving it in the sink. Strangely enough, she didn't feel very tired, not even after the evening she'd had, _something_ niggling at her.

While she lay in bed, she tried to remember whether she'd forgotten something, checked the calendar on her phone for birthdays she might have overlooked. She even checked on Peter three times, finding him deeply asleep and just fine, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that _something_ was wrong. 

She switched on the small tv in her room to try and distract herself, keeping the volume so low she could barely hear it. It was yet another summary of the events at Coney Island.

Her eyes became heavy. 

The video of Spider-Man was played again, limping away from the wreckage, people calling his name, Spider-Man hiding underneath his hood, cradling his right shoulder … 

May sighed sleepily as the video was repeated, drifting off to the sight of Spider-Man limping towards the Cyclone, Spider-Man pulling the hood further down …

... Peter cradling his right shoulder.

Before the thought could register fully, May was asleep.

 

END  
07/17


End file.
